


Nightmares and Daydreams of You

by dapperanachronism



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Get Together, Identity Porn, M/M, Mentions of Blood, Nightmares, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-18 12:45:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,697
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9385781
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dapperanachronism/pseuds/dapperanachronism
Summary: Steve wakes with a start, gasping for breath, tangled up in sweat-soaked sheets. The images of lunging at Iron Man's throat,  of teeth and metal still fresh in his mind, the scene playing over and over behind his eyes.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Nightmare Fuel](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9304232) by [Muccamukk](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Muccamukk/pseuds/Muccamukk). 



> Thanks once again to [Robin_tCJ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robin_tCJ/pseuds/Robin_tCJ) for the beta.

Steve wakes with a start, gasping for breath, tangled up in sweat-soaked sheets. The images of blood, of teeth and metal still fresh in his mind, the scene playing over and over behind his eyes as he blinks. Scrambling a little, Steve sits upright and runs his hands over his arms, checking to make certain that he’s still whole and still himself. He is, thank God. It’s just a nightmare, the same one that’s been plaguing him the past three nights. Shakily, Steve crawls out of bed and stumbles to the shower, hoping the water might clear his head.

“Jarvis? Where’s Iron Man?” Steve asks, stepping under the spray, the warm water running over his skin. Normally he doesn’t like to engage Jarvis while in the shower. While he knows there are no cameras in any part of his quarters -- voice only, just in the event that he needs something -- it still feels weird. But he has to know, he needs to hear that Iron Man is okay.

“Iron Man is down monitoring feeds and sorting through the recently obtained security data,” Jarvis replies kindly. They’ve gone through this question and answer every morning since Steve returned to the tower four days ago. By this point, there were no physical signs of his injuries -- they had never been severe anyway. 

It should have been a routine recon. Jarvis had picked up some weird energy readings further up the coast in some remote part of Maine. Normally Stark would have sent Iron Man out to investigate -- a quick flight, quick scan, back with the data. But Iron Man had been off taking care of something else, Stark was at meetings at some west coast production facility, so Steve had rounded up Sam, Clint and Wanda, all of whom were restless and bored in the compound, eager for an excuse to get out. Four of them to check out an ‘energy’ _should_ have been overkill.

Ten miles out from the site, the quinjet’s engines seized.

Clint fought with the controls the entire way down, but the jet was nothing more than a pile of dead mechanisms hurtling towards the ground. It was only quick thinking and a frankly inhuman display of power from Wanda that kept them from a fiery crash, her sea of red energy bringing the jet to a slightly more controlled landing. Hard, but at least intact. The moment they were safe, she collapsed, her face pale from the exertion. With all their attention diverted to checking on Wanda and on breathing sighs of relief that they’d narrowly avoided a horrifying collision with the earth, and with the quinjet sensors offline, neither Steve, Sam, nor Clint noticed the sudden arrival of the sorcerer until it was too late. Tech, they could deal with. But magic? That was still something none of them understood, and with Thor off somewhere with Jane, none of them stood a chance. 

The four of them had spent the better part of two days transformed into reptilian creatures, long claws and sharp teeth, bound to the sorcerer’s bidding. Two days before Iron Man had tracked them down with Natasha and Thor and come to their rescue. Clint, Wanda and Sam were freed from the spell without great difficulty, but Steve… the sorcerer’s grip was stronger on him and he fought against the rescue, hissing and clawing. Iron Man stepped in to try and subdue him, and Steve had attacked, launching himself at the seam where Iron Man’s helmet met his body. Razor sharp claws tore at the metal, digging into crevices, enhanced sharp teeth bit at Iron Man’s throat, fuelled by blood lust.

In the end, Steve hadn’t come anywhere close to breaking through the armour before Thor had the sorcerer subdued. Steve had come out of the ordeal with only minor injuries to his body, but every time he tried to sleep his dreams were full of that all-consuming desire to tear out Iron Man’s throat. In his dreams, his claws destroyed the metal and his teeth sank into warm flesh. In his dreams he could taste the blood, he could feel Iron Man desperately gasping for breath. 

But it was just a dream. Iron Man -- his friend -- was safe. 

Iron Man had opted not to live at the tower, feeling more comfortable in his own space, he’d claimed, but since the incident he’s spent most of his waking hours at the tower, reviewing the data they’d managed to gather, working with Jarvis to recalibrate the sensors on the quinjet to better detect and respond to magic like energy signatures -- since Stark still hadn’t returned from his meetings out west. Steve wonders -- hopes, selfishly -- that Iron Man is hanging around to keep an eye on him. He certainly has seemed to appear out of nowhere a lot in the past few days, always showing up when Steve is in the common areas, or down in the gym, always asking how Steve is holding up. Every time Iron Man looks at him, Steve imagines that he can see concern behind the soft blue glow Iron Man’s eyes. They always talk for a few minutes and then as he leaves, Iron Man always claps a hand on his shoulder, metal fingers lingering. And when they pull away, it almost feels like reluctance. Or maybe that’s just Steve’s imagination.

===

It’s the middle of the night the following night when, again, Steve wakes with a start. He tastes the sharp tang of blood in his mouth where he’s bitten the inside of his lip. He untangles his sheets, showers, and dresses in what is becoming a disturbingly familiar routine. Iron Man isn’t at the tower -- of course he isn’t, is the middle of the night -- but Jarvis assures Steve that he’s okay. Bleary eyed, Steve goes down to the control room Iron Man has been working out of. Steve might not be able to work on the sensors, but there’s a lot of data that still needs to be gone through. Jarvis does a lot of it, compiles it all into relevant reports but it’s still information Steve needs to know. And it’s this or the gym, and right now he’s feeling too wrung out to be up for punching anything. 

He loses track of hours then, mind wandering. He’s not really paying attention to the data either. The sick, heavy feeling of his dreams have faded -- he’s still thinking about Iron Man but it’s more pleasant now. He thinks about Iron Man’s strong arms around him, lifting him up. In his mind, they’re flying, Iron Man carrying him through the sky, soaring and looping and diving, Steve holding on tight and laughing. He feels safe, protected. Iron Man has him, won’t let anything happen to him. Eventually they slow and it’s just the two of them looking at one another, Steve standing on Iron Man’s boots, held in place by a strong metal arm. Below them the world continues as always, but up here it’s just them, frozen in time. Steve leans forward, eyes closed, he hears the sound of the faceplate lifting, feels soft breath and then soft lips against his --

“You’re up early.” Steve spins around in a panic as a voice cuts through, interrupting his daydreams. Iron Man is standing in the doorway, holding a cup of coffee, looking at him with a slight head tilt that Steve reads as amusement. It takes every ounce of control that Steve has not to blush, now that he’s suddenly face to face with the object of his little fantasy. Iron Man crosses the room, hands Steve the coffee and takes a seat. Steve takes the cup gratefully and drinks. For a long moment neither of them say anything. Then Iron Man speaks up.

“So.. how’ve you been holding up?” he asks.

Steve shrugs. “Fine.” 

Iron Man huffs in response. “No, you’re not.”

Steve thinks about protesting, denying it, saying that he really is fine. There was a time when he would have done just that, but not anymore. Not to Iron Man, and not when he can hear the genuine concern in his friend's voice. “Just… having trouble sleeping, that’s all.”

“Course you are, can’t fault you that. I would, too, after what you went through.” Steve shrugs. He doesn’t remember much of being under the sorcerer’s control, just bits and fragments. All he really remembers is the end, fighting Iron Man before everything blanked and he woke up human again. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t get there faster,” Iron Man says after another moment.

“It wasn’t your fault. You found us as fast as you could.”

“Still…” Iron Man trailed off and Steve dared to peek over at him.

“I’m sorry I-” Steve started to say but Iron Man cut him off.

“Don’t. You don’t have anything to apologise for.”

“But I attacked you. I tried to --”

“Not your fault,” Iron Man cut him off. Steve tried to protest again but before he could, he felt a metal finger press against his lips. “Not. Your. Fault.”

For a long moment they stare at one another, neither moving. Then Steve nods just slightly, and Iron Man slides his hand to cup Steve’s cheek.

“I’m just glad I got there in time,” Iron Man says softly, leaning in so their foreheads are touching. The metal is cool against Steve’s skin, but it’s a solid comfort. Steve never wants to pull away. With the way that Iron Man is holding him, he thinks that he probably won’t have to. Not really. 

“I’ll be okay,” Steve promises, leaning into the touch. And the thing is, he believes it. Already he can feel the grip of the nightmare lessening. “I already feel better with you around.” Maybe it’s not the right thing to say, but Steve says it anyway, feeling safe and a little bold now they’re all but sharing the same space.

“Then I guess I’ll have to stick around,” Iron Man says quietly. A second later there is no space between them, the cool metal of the mouth slit is pressed against Steve’s lips. It’s not how he imagined it, but it’s every bit as good.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Warrior Planet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9508778) by [starkteasfic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/starkteasfic/pseuds/starkteasfic)




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